Witness Protection Program
by Miss Alexis Lamae
Summary: Revision of WPP on Lil'DevilBabe. Title subject to Change.


A/N: This is a revision of Witness Protection Program from my old pen name Lil'DevilBabe. However, I don't know that the title fits since the witness protection program really doesn't play into this story or at least the old version. I guess a title is up for grabs. If you r/r (which I'm crossing my fingers for), please suggest a title. Thanks, much.

Prologue

She covered her mouth quickly to stifle a shriek. In front of her, on the white and black checkered floor, lay a dead man. He had a head wound of some sort from which was seeping a crimson cloud of thick liquid. His blood was coating the white tiles in sickly smelling "enamel."

She couldn't believe her eyes. Who would have known using a bathroom could result in something life-threatening! Was the murderer still present? Murderer...? Well obviously the man didn't do that to himself! With a frown, she took a step back, a sick feeling coiling in her gut. Something was very wrong. This man was murdered and she had yet to hear the bathroom door open announcing the exit of his killer. Did he know she was in here? Would he kill her as well?

With a quiet gulp, she began to shiver as her situation became a reality. She heard a sound. It was heavy. A step from the murderer? Another shiver. Goosebumps dotted her arms and a cold tingle raced down her spine. Another loud thump. Somebody was coming this way! Surely he was just getting closer to the body of the man. He couldn't know that they weren't alone in the room. He just couldn't. Her mind refused to accept that.

Another step back as he took another step forward. How sexist was she to assume that the murderer was male, but surely no woman could inflict that messy of a wound on somebody. She nervously stepped back further into the stall again. Momentarily a small feeling of relief took over her as she realized that the murderer could not see her since the stall door had been closed; however, that joyous moment was squelched when she saw the huge masculine black boot stop outside the stall door. He knew!

Green eyes widened in fear, she mounted the toilet with speed she didn't know she had in her. She wouldn't go down without a fight. She just couldn't. But what weapons were available to her? Had the man been shot or bludgeoned? Obviously his killer had an unfair advantage over her already. Praying she wouldn't slip into the toilet, which lacked a conventional cover, and give herself away she grabbed the top of the "wall" separating her from the next stall.

What was that? A grunt. Definitely male. Daring a quick downward glance, she saw black pants and Caucasian hands hit the floor. He was looking underneath the stall for feet. Inwardly sighing with relief at her smart move to 'higher' ground, she began to pull herself up as silently and quickly as she could. God willing, she could elude this man. Could she even hope that stall hopping would confuse him and he'd think that no one was there? Could she hope that she wouldn't slip up and make a sound during all of this?

She clumsily, but quietly, managed to pull herself over the wall and land onto the toilet of the next, almost loosing balance and landing one foot in the water. Nose wrinkled in disgust, despite the delicate situation, she cringed. How was it possible to be so girly when death was near? Hearing shuffling from outside the stall, she jumped back into reality. Her imminent doom. He was headed for this stall!

Grabbing the top of the adjoining wall, she began to do her trick again, hoping in vain that there would be an endless amount of stalls to climb. Making a mental note to thank her mother for the gymnastic classes as a child, she landed on the next toilet. Only two stalls left and then what? Head back the other way? Fear clutched at her heart and squeezed painfully.

A small sense of triumph began to overtake her as she started her ascent over the next wall and there he was. His eyes were blue and puzzled, but intense with concentration as he looked at the stall she had evacuated. He didn't see her, strangely. He was a handsome man. It was foolish of her to think that he'd be a murderer but everything was pointing at him. She couldn't trust her feminine desires. He had brown hair. Long. Strange that she should be trying to memorize every detail of him in the seconds it took to hop the wall.

Her body ached as she let herself down painfully slow onto the last toilet. The room smelled of death. It tickled her nose. She felt bile rising in her throat. She heard a sickening sound as his boots made a rip noise pulling from the tile soaked in blood which was spreading to the drain in her stall. He was coming this way. Directly to her stall. He knew. She could stare at those beautiful blue eyes as white announced her arrival into another life.

The door began to swing open. Her heart beat rapidly. Help please! She wanted to scream... her throat felt dry, filled with bile, and her voice was failing her. Who would hear anyways? Would she, with a light conscience, be able to call another helpless person to their certain doom to try and save a woman who was already dead?

His tall frame came into view as her voice finally was freed. But as she tried to scream, the only sound heard was a gurgling. He had a gun aimed at her, the coldest expression she'd seen plastered on his face. His finger began to pull the trigger.

He entered the restroom, following his mark casually. As he walked in, he pulled his mask out and thought about donning it. This was a bathroom. Where could Brazer go? He was trapped. Brazer could see his face for all he cared. He wouldn't live long enough to tell anyone about it. He curiously watched Brazer search his pockets. Hmmm.

After a minute of observations, he had more than his fill. Raising his gun, he took aim and shot Brazer in the back of his head. He watched emotionlessly as the man fell to the floor without as much as a sound. Patting the silencer on his weapon, he froze. Had he heard something? His ears could be deceiving him but he could have sworn that he'd heard a small smacking sound. Chances were it could have been Brazer flesh smacking the floor, but a delayed sound? Unlikely.

A smile took over his face as he realized there was somebody there. He slowly stepped towards the stall nearest Brazer. If it were a male, he'd have to take aim and kill the man, but if it were a female... well then, chances were there wouldn't be much to worry about. Females wouldn't stand a chance against a trained assassin.

Exerting a little bit of cautiousness along with his sudden cockiness, he dropped to his hands and knees. The door was obviously locked, further impacting the possibility he'd overlooked witnesses. He didn't mind cleaning up extra messes. They happened rather frequently. His only concern was of himself and his friends.

He heard slow movements as he peered under the stall door. It was quite obvious that _somebody was in one of the stalls. _Chances were that somebody was very aware of him and trying to hide. He loved being the cat rather than the mouse. Life was good.

Scooting over to the next stall to peer underneath, he maintained his composure. He wasn't worried in the least. It was more than apparent that whoever was hiding was terrified of him. He felt a feeling much akin to a god. He was feared, inadvertently, he was respected. Walking to the last stall, a huge grin split across his face. It was time to scare this individual out of their mind and then watch them fall to the same fate that Mr. Brazer had.

Pushing the stall door open, he took aim with his gun. What he confronted was completely unexpected. The most fearful emerald eyes stared at the barrel of his gun. A pale, petite face was framing those gorgeous eyes. He took his eyes off of the face to look this female up and down. She was definitely worth more than one glance, this long-legged, slender feminine critter.

He mustered the coldest expression he could and squeezed the trigger.


End file.
